


a moment of silence for those dying for attention

by chameleonchanging



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleonchanging/pseuds/chameleonchanging
Summary: Wolffe has not had to share his General with anyone since he was assigned, and he likes it that way. What's this? General Plo is hanging out with a shiny in the test pilot division?Abso-fucking-lutely not. Jai'galaar had better be ready for war, and not with the Separatists.
Relationships: Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Comments: 32
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

Wolffe is absolutely not jealous. **  
**

(He’s filthy stinking head-over-heels green-eyed-and-turning-greener jealous. Nobody has ever accused Wolffe of emotional literacy.)

His General - _his_ General! - is suddenly never to be seen without that disgraced transfer from 127th Gunship Wing. Oh, he’s been doing his job, attending meetings, conferring with his command staff, arranging shipments and troop movements, but the moment he’s finished, Jai’galaar is pulling him aside to fawn over the ARC-170s. It doesn’t seem possible for there to be so many minutiae on a starfighter to occupy them, no matter how new. They don’t even look all that different from the previous model. 

(Nobody has ever accused Wolffe of being a pilot either. This is something he and Plo will never agree on: Plo looks at the sky and sees freedom and unexplored horizons. Wolffe sees death in a roaring ball of flame.)

The point is, there’s no reason that Jai’galaar needs to be occupying so much of Plo’s time. General Koon’s time. Whatever. 

Fuck. 

It’s not even that Wolffe has anything in mind for Plo to be doing. He could be setting the bridge on fire, for all Wolffe cares, so long as _that shiny_ (former CC, what’s the difference) isn’t involved. Though he probably would be, now that they’re best buddies. It’s driving him to distraction.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” says Boost, watching Wolffe watching Plo hand a wrench to Jai’galaar and lean in to look closer at the section of wing they’re tuning for another trial run. 

“What are you talking about? Don’t you have a toilet to scrub with a toothbrush?” Wolffe grumbles. He grits his teeth when Plo gives Jai’galaar a pat on the shoulder. Boost snickers and walks away, cackling some nonsense about how many credits he’s going to make.

Plo looks up and catches sight of Wolffe. He breaks into a grin, or as much of one as he can with most of his face obscured. He hops off the fighter wing and and makes his way over. “Commander! Were you looking for me?”

Technically no, but if it’ll get Plo away from that trooper … 

“Uh, sure,” says Wolffe. He leads them out the hangar door, sending a sour look at Jai’galaar as they go. Jai’galaar seems very confused but goes back to his plane. When Wolffe looks back, Plo is watching him expectantly. Wolffe’s mind goes blank.

“Wolffe, are you feeling well?” Plo asks.

“Um,” says Wolffe.

“We’d better get you checked out,” says Plo. “I do hope nothing is wrong.” He shepherds Wolffe to the medbay, where of course the most sarcastic bastard in the GAR is on-duty. 

“I’ll make sure he’s okay, General,” Catch promises. Catch is, thankfully, very adept at picking up hints and shoos Plo away in no time flat. Wolffe gives a half-hearted wave as Plo leaves and then turns to face the music. 

“You’re the dumbest smart guy I’ve ever met.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jag doesn’t know what the Commander’s deal is. When he was first transferred to the 104th on General Koon’s request, the CC seemed reasonable enough, even though he had to know about the whole Katraasii thing that led to his demotion. But then as time went on - despite Jag keeping his head down and doing his job - Commander Wolffe seemed to develop an intense, seething hatred for him. Every time their paths cross, the Commander would scowl, glare, or otherwise silently indicate that he had a burning desire to boot Jag out the nearest airlock. And Jag has absolutely no idea what he could have done to piss Wolffe off so much.

“Don’t worry about it,” says one of the other captains when Jag asks in the mess. “He’ll get over it eventually.”

“Ha,” says a sergeant, “as if. Commander Wolffe doesn’t like sharing. You’re fucked, man, if you’re gonna be General Plo’s first wing.”

Jag blinks. General Koon wants a wingman out of Jag. Clearly Commander Wolffe isn’t doing the job right, if he had been brought in to fill the role. And doesn’t General Koon deserve the very best? He’d gone out of his way to save Jag’s career, and he was so attentive … 

Well, then. Too bad for Commander Wolffe, but Jag is going to be the best first wing General Koon has ever had.

* * *

The next few weeks are rather strange from Plo Koon’s perspective. All of a sudden, his personal attention is required on all kinds of things that seemed to run just fine without it before. Revising troop formations, test pilot flight schedules, assessing a potential base site, organizing the introduction of the new 170s to the air support, where to relocate the officers’ quarters, which brand of engine oil to order. 

It feels a lot like the army is falling apart around his ears, and he has no idea why. 

He wonders a little bit how Wolffe and Jag are holding up, since the bulk of the requests seem to be coming from them; goodness knows Wolffe does his best to take on as much as he can before allowing extra work to fall on Plo’s shoulders, and Jag has his own division to worry about even without the issue of being a new transfer with a colorful history. The whole thing would be less taxing if they didn’t work on completely opposite ends of the ship; it seems as soon as one issue is resolved, he has to run from aft to bridge or the other way around to deal with another. 

Hopefully whatever bad juju is in the air clears soon and things go back to normal.


	3. Chapter 3

The ship is cold, unwelcoming, and exactly where Wolffe does not want to be sans blaster, vibroblade, or other assorted weaponry. He groans as he pushes himself up off the ground into sitting position. The new knock-out darts pack one hell of a wallop. He wishes he had some of Helix’s special hangover cure.   


What was he - Oh, right. Prisoner transfer, since the _Courageous_ was already headed towards the Core. Of course they wouldn’t mind an extra stop. Of course they have a spare shuttle. Of course, Admiral Yularen, and fuck you very much too. Not an hour after leaving ship, they were beset upon by pirates looking for their buddy to pay back some inane debt, and now he’s getting mailed to who-knows-where as collateral.

Plo is going to die laughing. So is the rest of the Pack. Serial murder is looking more and more appealing, the more Wolffe thinks about it.

He checks the cell by rote - nothing useful - and settles in to wait. Either rescue comes, or he arrives at their destination and makes trouble then. No sense in wearing himself out for nothing. They’ve even been so kind as to leave a very threadbare blanket for him to sleep under, which moves this cell several places up in the rankings. 

How long’s it been?

Eh, who cares? He hasn’t gotten to his rank by being unable to entertain himself while hurry-up-and-waiting. Sleep is out of the question but he’s been meaning to give meditation another try to improve his Makashi, and there’s no time like the present. Plo always says to meditate in a comfortable position. Sprawled on his back meets that criteria. Step one accomplished. Step two, focus on the breath. In, out. In, out. In, pause, out. His nose itches terribly. He reaches up to scratch it. What was he doing? Right, the breath. 

This is why he could never be a Jedi. Too much focus and stillness. And diplomacy, ugh. Plo loves those godsawful missions that require stuffing Wolffe into dress greys. Possibly for less than noble reasons, which Wolffe is all for encouraging. But still. Dress greys. Armor-less, pocket-less, and worst of all, bucket-less, which means devoting a lot of his attention to not letting the higher-ups see his eye rolling backwards in its socket. He does a lot of eye-rolling. In training, the Cuy’val Dar had nicknamed him Duraan for his many unmet standards.

Well, this is going _just great_ , thanks for asking. Maybe if he tries to focus on something else. Maybe that spot in the back of his head that Plo likes to live in. Except right now there isn’t a spot to focus on, since Plo isn’t here. He’s far, far away on the _Courageous_ and not in a dingy cell giving Wolffe a point to focus on. It’s hard to describe the sensation of having someone else in his head. It’s not like he’s a telepath, he’s not wired for it. It’s just - there. Words and pictures and feelings that come into being that aren’t his. Ugh. Feelings.

_I shall endeavor to induce fewer of them, my dearest Commander._

Oh, look. Thoughts that aren’t his. Hi, Plo _._

_Not that I’m not delighted to see you are practicing your meditation, but - are you well?_

Well? Why would he be well? He has nothing to do with water supply. That’s what troopers are for.

_Oh dear. I see. Wolffe, I need you to do something for me._

Of course. Anything. Aaaaaaaanythiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing Plo wants he can have. Like that rock. If Plo wanted that rock, Wolffe would move heaven and earth to get it to him.

_I’m flattered, really, my dear, but wouldn’t it be simpler for me to come to you instead?_

Oh yeah. Probably. Let’s do that then.

_Excellent. And where would you like your transport to pick you up?_

Um.

_Would you mind terribly if I took a look at your memory?_

Sure, but what’s there to look at? There’s just the transport, getting jumped … by pirates … and waking up in this cell … Wait a minute.

_Quite._

I’ve been drugged, haven’t I?

_That would appear to be the case, yes._

Wolffe swears mentally before he remembers a superior officer is present, and then decides regulations don’t cover his right to swear all he wants in the sanctity of his own brain. The train of invective is very long indeed.

_They say the first step is admitting you have a problem._

I’m going to turn Admiral Yularen into a pincushion when I get out of here.

_Which brings us back to the problem at hand. I don’t suppose you know where here is?_

Wolffe has to admit begrudgingly he does not. He didn’t get a good look at the other ship before the tractor beam got them. All he can say is it was bigger than the shuttle, and most things are.

_Ah, well. The shuttle transponder is still active, so Captain Jag should be arriving soon to provide assistance._

Jai’galaar?! Why him?!

_He’s a perfectly good pilot, and if I’m entirely honest, I needed an afternoon without the constant queries from the test division._

Wolffe allows himself to feel smug at the admission, even if it does mean he’s going to have to put up with the man until they get back.

 _Maybe the two of you can take this opportunity to work out your differences._ Plo is giving off the kind of mild tone that misbehaving children and troopers everywhere know means there’s a right answer to his suggestion, and that answer is “yessir”. Still, Wolffe has a very strong incentive to resist as long as he can, so he picks the less advisable option.

What differences?

_Wolffe, my dear, it hasn’t escaped my notice that whenever the two of you are in the same room, you and he are devoting a not-inconsiderable amount of energy to planning one another’s painful demise._

Clearly Jai’galaar needed to work on keeping his thoughts to himself. Wolffe’s shielding is obviously superior.

_You were thinking about dipping him in tar and using him as the board in a battalion-wide feathered dart competition._

So maybe he could do with some practice too.

_Whatever could he have done to irritate you so?_

Alarm bells go off in Wolffe’s head. Danger ahead. Tread carefully.

_I won’t press if you don’t want me to know._

Wolffe doesn’t. He really doesn’t. It’s embarrassing.

_But I do wish the two of you could be collegial at the least. It worries me that you think so poorly of him. Have I misjudged his character?_

Aside from the Katraasi business … 

_Well, we’ve discussed that at length, but I’m always happy to revisit the topic._

Wolffe snorts. If he reopens the topic, Plo will work on it like a _kovedee_ and he’ll never hear the end of it.

 _Is_ that _why the troopers’ sign for me has horns?_

Whoops. At least Plo sounds pleased by the comparison.

 _Sha will be delighted_. A pause. _Wolffe, tell me truly. Are you well? Will you need more help than the Captain can provide?_

He scans himself again. Still just the hangover from hell, and whatever lip-loosening bullshit he’s under the influence of. So really he just needs something to keep Jai’galaar from gloating about his needing rescue.

_Ah, well. Nobody’s perfect. I’m told your reinforcements are arriving shortly. Do try to return in one piece. I believe we have a new question to explore upon your return. Not just anyone can knock on my door, so to speak, from a system away._


End file.
